The Best Sermon Ever

Last Monday Before Pentecost

I'm writing this on Sunday, because we're having a Memorial Day family gathering (not at our house) that will take up most of the day.

It's Faith Journey narrative day. We left off last Monday with me in a three point charge in northern Chatham County in the summer of 1977, with the Mericle Man, Skip, gaining praise from all directions, while I'm hold up in the parsonage writing my dissertation and feeling like my churches are forgetting me. If you haven't read last Monday's blog, go back and read it now, or this blog won't make much sense.

In early August it came time for Skip to preach one Sunday, something he had never done before. I was dreading it. It would be the final blow. He would spellbind them all with his astonishing rhetorical charms and preach a beautiful message they would never forget. I would be done for.

The first church was the tiny one, Mann's Chapel. We had a good crowd (about 10). I preached all three churches every Sunday. Mann's Chapel served as sort of a warm up.  I could preach the there sermon for the first time, then make some adjustments.

Skip got up to preach. To my utter surprise he seemed very nervous. Was I making him nervous? I hoped not. He began haltingly, his voice with a very slight stammer. His voice smoothed out, but he read from his manuscript and never looked up. His reading was monotone. I don't remember the content of the sermon.  All that I remember is that it was not memorable. 

After Mann's Chapel, I sped us to Cedar Grove. I gave him lots of good assurances on the way. I did tell him that it would be good for him to look up from his manuscript occasionally. He seemed stunned by the whole experience, not really hearing anything I was saying. 

Same result at Cedar Grove. On we went to Mt. Pleasant, the largest of the three. Not any better. There is no time to talk to congregation members after Mann's Chapel and Cedar Grove. You just have to jump in the car and rush to the next church. There is time after Mt. Pleasant. After the service Skip chatted with some church members, while I stood a 20 feet away chatting with others. I couldn't help but notice that a couple of members mentioned to me what a good preacher I was. Some time later a member wanted to assure me that it was not my fault that Skip did so poorly. They knew I was too busy with the dissertation to teach Skip anything. 

It seemed to me that in the following Sundays I was getting a bit more praise and complements for my sermons than I had been before. Summer Duke Endowment ended, and Skip started Divinity School. I finished my dissertation. Skip finished Divinity School in the standard three years. He did not go into parish ministry but went into counseling. He established a very successful counseling practice in Greensboro. 

So, I have a confession to make. It will show a flaw in my character. Skip's first sermon was poor in delivery and mediocre in content--but to me, in the time I was in, in the situation I was in. it was the best sermon I could ever want to hear. 

Faithfully,

Christian